


snitches get stitches

by kavinsskys



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Drug Use, Knives, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, and i'm bad at writing, everyone is ooc, like it's a nerve au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2017-04-10
Packaged: 2018-08-29 17:00:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8498041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kavinsskys/pseuds/kavinsskys
Summary: “Nathaniel?” says Kevin, and his voice sounds soft and broken and Neil really, really can’t deal with that. He flinches, hard, and does what he does best: he bolts. Kevin had seen his tattoo, Kevin knows who he is, and Neil doesn’t know how to come back from this.





	1. recognition

**Author's Note:**

> honestly everyone is gonna be so out of character in this. partly because the situation is different surrounding the Ravens and Kevin and Neil, partly just because i can't write. someone tell me to stop starting new things in the middle of writing others.

Neil looks in the mirror and tries not to recoil from the sight of his father’s face and the Ravens’ tattoo looking back at him. He dabs makeup over the ‘3’ inked on his cheekbone, over the thin scars left by Lola’s knife on the other side of his face. Distantly, he hears his roommate leave for class. Neil doesn’t have morning classes today – but he knows that he shouldn’t really have any classes, at all. He shouldn’t be here. Palmetto State University is no place for the runaway son of a murderer – he knows this much. But Stuart had told him to stay put, at least for a few months. He’d said that no one would think to look for Neil at a college of all places, so he’s stuck in PSU.

Lola Malcolm had caught up with Neil in Millport, Arizona. He still shudders to remember it, and the scars criss-crossing his hands and arms don’t help him forget. She’d taken his duffel, binder and all. Neil’s money, and his directions to more, were all gone. Luckily, he’d run before his father had arrived. Running was something Neil had been exceptionally good at since he was 17 and escaped the Nest. Even before that, he’d been a runner in a more literal sense – the Ravens’ top junior backliner, and the fastest on the team. It was hard for him to work up the nerve to call Stuart from the gas station in Baltimore, but he swallowed his pride and did it anyway. Stuart wired him some money, just enough to get by, and told him to enroll in Palmetto State. So here he is, playing the typical broke college student.

Neil is actually broke, and he is actually a college student. Stuart’s money had been enough to get him to Palmetto State and cover his tuition, but Neil can’t really afford to eat these days. He can’t get a job without revealing who he is, either, and he doesn’t want to go crying to Stuart again. He’d rather not owe someone whose living is made on organised crime.

It had actually been Neil’s roommate who suggested Nerve to him. Neil lives a five minute walk away from campus, with a tall, muscled Exy player called Matt. Matt had left Neil to his own devices at first, but lately he’d been urging Neil to try a game called Nerve, basically truth or dare without the truth, saying it’d “help him get out there” and that “he could use some adventure”. Even though Neil felt he’d had more than enough adventure in his life, once he learned that Nerve players got paid for completing dares, he couldn’t turn it down. So he signed up with the username “neiljos10” and hoped against all odds that he wouldn’t regret it.

He regrets it almost immediately. When Neil gets his first dare he nearly drops his phone. “KISS KEVIN DAY FOR TEN SECONDS,” the screen reads, all caps and too bright and too close to home. Neil accepts it anyway – he’s already a sitting duck at Palmetto, and hopefully Kevin won’t recognise him.

Kevin’s at the library, according to his phone, so that’s where Neil heads. He makes sure his roots aren’t showing, his contacts are in, and his tattoo is covered before he leaves. At the library, Kevin is sitting at a table with only one other person, a five foot nothing blonde boy who seems to actually be asleep. There are history textbooks spread out in front of them, though Kevin is the only one looking at them. Neil sits in the empty chair beside him, says

“Kevin,” as if he’s about to start a conversation. Kevin turns to face Neil and the blonde boy on his other side sends textbooks crashing to the floor as he wakes up. Neil doesn’t – can’t – waste any time. He surges forward and presses his lips to Kevin’s, expecting – he doesn’t know what he was expecting. He certainly doesn’t expect for Kevin to cup his face in his hands, thumbs stroking his cheekbones, and kiss back with fervour usually only reserved for Exy practice. It’s almost nostalgic.

Neil knows when his time is up, though, pulls back, and sees Kevin’s eyes widen in shock. He starts to apologise, explain himself, but Kevin just strokes his thumb over Neil’s cheekbone again.

“Nathaniel?” he says, and his voice sounds soft and broken and Neil really, really can’t deal with that. He flinches, hard, and does what he does best: he bolts. Kevin had seen his tattoo, Kevin knows who he is, and Neil doesn’t know how to come back from this. No sooner is Neil outside the library than he is slammed up against the brick wall, a knife pressed to his throat. But it’s not Kevin, it’s his tiny blonde friend, who Neil now recognises as Andrew Minyard, the Foxes’ goalie. Neil relaxes a little, because he’s used to situations like this. Threats and violence are things he can deal with.

“Who the fuck are you?” says the blonde boy, and Neil can’t help but notice that he’s really attractive. He wonders if he and Kevin have something between them.

“Neil Josten,” Neil says, calmly, “I major in Spanish and Russian,”

“What do you want from Kevin,” says Minyard, and through his gritted teeth it doesn’t even sound like a question, “How does he know you,”

“We have… history,” says Neil. Minyard twitches, Neil feels the knife bite into his skin and feels the trickle of blood down his throat. At some point, Kevin had followed them out of the library, and Neil sees him now, stood behind Minyard, staring at Neil. Neil can’t look him in the eye, so instead he focuses on Minyard.

“What fucking history?” Neil almost laughs. He’d always heard people say that Minyard was a sociopath, vicious and lacking feelings and scary, but at the moment he’s more scared of Kevin’s reaction than of Andrew Minyard and his little switchblade. He looks Minyard in the eye.

“That’s none of your business,” he says, and has Minyard’s knife knocked out of his hand within seconds. He barely restrains himself from punching Minyard’s lights out, though. Kevin comes closer, then, and he looks so, so, lost. Neil can hardly bear to hold his gaze but he does, figures he owes it to Kevin for abandoning him.

“Nathaniel,” says Kevin, like he can’t believe he’s really there, in front of him.

“It’s Neil now,”


	2. expedition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kevin blinks but doesn’t stop looking at him, as if he’s waiting for something from Neil, an 'I missed you', or even just a 'how are you?'. Neil thinks, _we’ll never be the same as we were_ , but doesn’t say it. Neil feels trapped, bracketed by two people he absolutely does not trust in a dimly lit club in an unfamiliar city, feeling slightly delirious and more than a little unsteady.  
> “Kevin, you fucking traitor," he says, "Would’ve-would’ve thought once’d be enough for you,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uuhh so sorry about the delay. this fic wasn't writing itself in my head any further than the first paragraph of this chapter. also, i've edited a few things about the first chapter - neil ran away at 17, not 14, and he was never publicly announced as part of their college team. he played for their "junior" league team - like how rimouski oceanic used to be montreal junior canadiens!!

“It’s Neil now,” Kevin blinks but doesn’t stop looking at him, as if he’s waiting for something from Neil, an _I missed you_ , or even just a _how are you?_ Neil thinks, _we’ll never be the same as we were_ , but doesn’t say it. He doesn’t think he could handle the fallout. Luckily, he’s saved from think any more with the beeping of both Kevin and Andrew’s phones, and his own a second later. It’s a dare.

“GO TO COLUMBIA WITH THEM”

Andrew huffs a little, and Neil can’t tell if it’s derision or amusement. He decides he doesn’t want to know.

“The watchers want us to team up,” says Kevin, “They like us together,” Neil bites his tongue to keep from saying _Andrew doesn’t_.

“Whatever,” says Andrew, and he walks away from them. Kevin turns to follow, not even making sure Neil is coming with them. Andrew’s car is way too nice for a college student, and Neil pauses before he gets in, just looking.

“Look later, drive now,” says Kevin. Neil gets in the back.

“Sweetie’s first,” says Andrew, and Neil doesn’t know what Sweetie’s is, but he bets it’s not as innocent as the name makes it sound.

* * *

 

Sweetie’s is a diner, as it turns out. It could be every bit as innocent as it sounds if not for what they serve with their infamous ice cream special. The three of them sit there in relative silence – Andrew downs packet after packet of cracker dust but Kevin takes just one, and Neil’s eyes definitely don’t fixate on how strong Kevin’s hands look as he plays with the packet after, and he doesn’t let his gaze drift to the scars across his left. No, absolutely not. Neil eats his ice cream, albeit slower than Andrew, and it dimly registers that it’s the first thing he’s eaten all day. When Kevin offers him the remaining cracker dust, Neil says,

“No. Maybe later,” because he knows how fucked he’d be if he takes anything or drinks right now, knows he’d spill every secret that he’d ever kept, without even blinking. All Kevin would have to do is ask. He doesn’t, though, at least not yet. He just nods and pockets the cracker dust for later, and then they leave for some club downtown in Andrew’s stupid-expensive car.

Neil makes sure to order his own drinks, but his mouth still tastes like something’s off. He tells himself it’s just paranoia, because being Neil Josten does that to a boy. But his hands start to shake around his fourth drink, and when he tries to stand up to go to the bathroom the world lurches around him in a way he hasn’t experienced since living in the Nest. Andrew grabs him by his hair and slams him back into his seat, says,

“Oh, Neil,” as if Neil is some unruly child being scolded. Neil’s phone beeps, and he recognises the bright letters flashing across his screen despite the situation. Unluckily for him, so does Andrew, who remarks, “Huh. Interesting,” and Neil wants to scream because the dare tells him,

“TAKE THE CRACKER DUST”

Neil shakes his head, keeps shaking it, even though the motion makes his head spin. He doesn’t want to forfeit, because – well, because the money he’s offered is nothing to sniff at – but because Neil has things he needs to keep from Kevin. _Feelings_ he needs to keep from Kevin. Andrew says,

“Kevin, do me a favour,” and whispers something Neil isn’t bothered to eavesdrop on, or really even capable of hearing. Kevin flushes a bit, though that could be just the lighting, and then moves to Neil’s other side. Neil feels trapped, bracketed by two people he absolutely does not trust in a dimly lit club in an unfamiliar city, feeling slightly delirious and more than a little unsteady. Kevin grabs his chin, and it’s not a gentle motion. Neil tries to move away but he’s still hazy, and weaker than Kevin anyway, and next thing he knows Kevin Day is kissing him.

Neil’s mouth opens involuntarily, as if muscle memory kicks in. He tastes the cracker dust before he feels it hit. Kevin pulls back, grimacing a little, and Neil thinks, _me too_. He doesn’t say that, though. What he does say is,

“Kevin, you fucking traitor. Would’ve-would’ve thought once’d be enough for you,” He’s spluttering, but he doesn’t care, because all it takes is a split second before Kevin knocks him out.

* * *

 

Neil wakes up on a strange couch in a cold sweat and pushes down the urge to reach under his pillow. He knows there’s no weapon there, but. His hand twitches. Andrew’s voice says,

“Look who’s awake,” way too sweetly to be genuinely nice, and definitely way to close to Neil’s ear. Neil sits bolt upright, regretting it a little when his head starts to spin. Andrew just laughs, twirling a knife around his finger in a way that Neil definitely shouldn’t find attractive, but. Maybe he does, a little bit. He swallows, says lowly,

“Where the fuck is Kevin,” because he feels unsafe, alone with Andrew, and he’s not sure if the cause is Andrew or himself.

“Asleep. Don’t wake him up,” says Andrew. Neil thinks that’s the end of it, but then Andrew looks him in the face, “Don’t call Kevin a traitor. You don’t know shit.”

He says it so sternly that Neil wants to laugh. So he does.

“Don’t I?”

“You know it wasn’t a skiing accident,” It’s not a question, so Neil doesn’t answer, but he can hear the underlying ‘who are you?’ in Andrew’s words. Neil doesn’t want him to know, not really, but it’s not like he can hide. Not here, not with Kevin around to call him Nathaniel like he honestly regrets anything, not with his tattoo clearly visible on the sharp point of his cheekbone. Neil was meant to be number 3, but he’d never been announced as part of the Ravens’ college team. He would’ve been a freshman the year he left.

“It’s you who doesn’t know shit,” says Neil. “God, you feel so bad for Kevin because he got his fucking hand broken? Kevin got off easy. He was a star,” Neil takes a breath, hates how he has to let Andrew in like this just to get one up on him in some weird ‘knowing Kevin Day’ battle, “He wasn’t property like the rest of us,"


End file.
